Tinder

In a land of angels there lived once a sun-god called Amerius. He was a good and kindly god, the son of the Universe and brother to the Moon, King of the Heavens he lit.. But he had no subjects to be particularly good and kindly to for he lived in the land of angels where sorrow did not fall and where tears of joy were all that emanated from happy and cherubic eyes: goodness and kindness were as commonplace as air. So he decided to leave.

First of all he confided his wish to his sister, the Moon, for in her he held most trust and he admired her the most. Yet her response was stony. “Brother,” she said, “how is it that you would wish to leave the world of gods for a world of shame? Are you not grateful for the life you have?” And the sun-god, Amerius, replied that, yes indeed, he was happy, but that he felt empty in this land of angels where rivers of milk and honey poured through fields of angelica and where swallows and kingfishers flocked like rainbows through the cotton clouds for he had heard that suffering occurred in another land, and he wanted so much to lend his aid. But his sister, the Moon, would give Amerius no blessing, and so he went to ask of the Universe what he should do.
The Universe gave a cold and dark reply; for the universe is just and powerful and mysterious in judicion. The stars winked on and off like sparks on a magician’s wand as the sun-god, Amerius, was told: “There is a land of lost souls where regret is alive, this land is the land of humans. If you should continue in your wish to go there then be warned, your own heart of light will be infected by the shadows of the Earth.”
Amerius was curious as to what the Universe could mean by this, for surely the Universe had possession of all Creation and the Universe was Just. How could it be that a Just Universe would be embodied, in part, by a woe-filled world where these humans did cry? Inspired by the mystique of the telling and the curiosity of his question, the sun-god elected to continue on his way and visit the Earth, where humans regretted their very existence and shame was a drug that could not be denied. He stared deep, long and balefully into the burning Sun that was his greatest joy and source of all his strength, love and life. He was beginning to understand that those around him were deliberately trying to keep knowledge from him, and he could not let that happen. Amerius needed to understand, he needed to feel at one with Creation to be nearer to his father/mother, the Universe, cold distant and insurmountable.

The following day, as he set in the West, the sun-god, Amerius, began on his journey. He stopped at the gates of the Universe to ask for directions from a fluffy kitten, who was playing there with a ball of fine-spun silk and who had not a care in the Universe. “Kitten, oh Kitten,” said Amerius, “where is that land of sorrow, the Earth, where not an action is passed that is not rued?”
“I have no ken of that which you describe,” replied the Kitten, pausing momentarily from play. “I have lived always by these gates, playing with my string, and shall continue to do so for all Eternity. I am sorry I cannot help you in your quest.” So the sun-god, Amerius, thanked him kindly, and traveled unguided on throughout the Heavens.

The next figure he encountered was a professor of religion, a priest of metaphor and learned in the ways of the gods and of the angels. “Kind sir, I beseech,” said Amerius to the man, “you to tell me where lies the Earth. For I wish a knowledge of the godless who live in sin and who wish they had not ever been born.”

“I wish I could help, I truly do,” said the professor, who truly did. “But I have left the wicked ways of that world behind a long time ago and have so distanced myself from that people that I forget who or, indeed, where they are. Though I wish you godspeed in realizing your adventure.” And with that the Priest turned back to his studies of the Universe, gripping his telescope ever so slightly more tightly than he had before the encounter, scribbling ever so more deliberately than he had done an hour before on his sheets of vellum, and left the ignorant sun-god, Amerius, to find his own way.
He entered a strange forest where the very sunlight that he had created had difficulty in reaching beyond the thick canopy above, and in such unaccustomed shade he continued till the trees became shrubs and the shrubs became grass. He traveled a few more miles until he came upon a large tree of unusual finery, and under this he lay down to rest. He cursed the day that he first decided to leave his home, the land of the angels, for he had traveled long and knew not where he was. He regretted his curiosity and silently tears, the first tears he had ever known, began to appear on his weary cheeks. Amerius wept long and painfully for his family and his contentment.
“Why-for do you cry?” Softly subtle a loaded voice spoke. Amerius was startled from his distress by this sudden intrusion.

“Why I… I… I left my home to to find regret in others, and yet I found it only in myself,” he managed as he looked up and saw a young girl with a skip-rope in her hand looking down at him.
“Why is regret in you, dear sir?” Asked the girl, for this was intriguing to her, “have you been naughty?”

“I don’t… I don’t think so,” replied Amerius, unsure of what the little girl meant. “I lived in a beautiful land of gorgeous plants, friendly animals, and wonderful people of light and power, and yet I decided to leave. I wanted so very much to experience something new, to understand how my father/mother, the Universe, could contain a world where people are not content and where regret is the effect of a person’s reflection.

The little girl told him that, although she was not sorrowful herself, her parents were, and that they argued and cried and harangued their daughter for not being more like them. At this the sun-god felt a spark of hope, ‘maybe I have arrived there at last’, he thought. “Tell me, child, can you introduce me to your wonderful parents?” The girl was embarrassed by this odd request, but acquiesced regardless for she saw the good that was in this creature. She took Amerius, the sun-god, back to her village and into her kitchen, where her mother was poaching some eggs, and introduced this Stranger to her.

The girl’s mother was suspicious of the new arrival, but she was a polite soul and asked the visitor to take a seat. Amerius thanked her very much and asked her directly, for he had grown-up in a land without secrets, “why do you rue the world that made you?”

The woman was taken aback by the openness of his question and immediately regretted being so welcoming unto him. She scolded him for his impropriety and requested that he take his leave of her house forthwith.

The sun-god, realizing the indaba that truthfulness posited in this godless world, hastily promised to act more decorously if the woman would allow him to remain awhile. This obvious regret shown by the sun-god seemed to please the woman and she suggested that have a talk to her husband, who was always proclaiming his natural logic and superior intellect to her. So Amerius followed her directions and left the home to walk to the village inn.

On the way there he experienced the beauty of this land, now in the throes of Spring. He proudly bathed in the sunlight that he had made as he witnessed the ducks flirting in the millpond, the trees ruffling their newly grown leaves, and the gaiety of the village children, who did not seem to have caught yet the mood of their elders; he noticed also that curtains twitched as he wandered past, with pinched faces behind looking out at his unfamiliar face in cautiousness and light fear.
Upon entering the inn it was plain to Amerius which man was the husband of the woman in the house and father of the little girl with the skip-rope, for he was the only man at the bar and he had on shoes of the same manufacture as those of his wife.

“Greetings , sir,” began Amerius, the sun-god. “I am the sun-god, Amerius, and I wish to ask you something.”

The man chortled sarcastically into his tankard, “oh, hello… ‘sun-god’. Tell me this, will you buy me a pint?”

“Certainly, sir. If you will exchange words with me.” A beer was paid for and the two sat down together.

“Now, sir,” began the drunkard, “what is it you would like to know?”

“I would like to know,” said the god, “what it is that makes your people scared of contentment and unhappy with their lot?”

“That, my good god, is a doddle to answer: we are unhappy because we are unhappy. There is a tale told of a land of angels, where sorrow does not fall and where tears of joy are the only sort.” The man paused to take a pull at his mild.

“That much is true,” said Amerius. “My land is just that. Why should this distress you so?”
“Well,” came the reply, “we do not live there, do we? And every time we look back on our lives we see that we could have done better and that our deeds have removed us farther and farther from that land. Our children are happy for they are pure and know only what they discover, but when they discover too much they speedily grow-up and they become bitter like their parents. Now, my friend, I believe I have answered your quest. It is now time for you to return to your Paradise. If you had known of our plight before you would maybe not have come.”

Yet Amerius, god of the Sun, was confused by this. “Do you not see that your regret is unfounded? Our worlds are distinct and mine is no rule to measure yours by. If your past actions are not to your standards then I would suggest that you should alter these, for your past is once gone and nevermore. I made myself unhappy because I could not find your land quick enough to satisfy my burning curiosity. My travels here at length taught me that what was greatest was what I had left behind. And those I had left behind had tried to tell me all of this before I had put myself through all my pains and travails. Go home to your wife and tell her how you would like to feel. Go, make her happy and from her happiness will spring your own. Do not allow your daughter to suffer this needless embitterment”

The man at he bar considered this, and agreed quite quickly, for he was not sober.

Quite satisfied, Amerius, the sun-god, left the bar and began the long and hope-paved way back to Heaven. But he never got there, for it did not exist.